


Sir Yes Sir

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, Facials, Humiliation, M/M, Military Fetish, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James texts Michael a link to an interview in which James gets very drill-instructor-like with an interviewer, and just like that, Michael's heading over for some rough treatment of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir Yes Sir

**Author's Note:**

> I BLAME EVERYONE. Also, yes, that is a real video. [Here's the video and a full transcript](http://helens78.tumblr.com/post/6725865514/wtsit-i-dont-even-eta-to-add-context), and no, I am not making that transcript up, and it is not the slash-goggles version of what happens. It is literally what happens in the video. XD

There are so many interviews it's made Michael's head spin, but every so often James will text him a link, and Michael goes, obediently, wondering what James is teasing him with this time.

Teaching someone better methods of interviewing seems like a great opportunity for hilarity, but when Michael sees James on the floor, one knee bent under him, other leg pushed back, both hands splayed out flat, he stops the video and picks up his phone.

"Fuck you," he says. " _Fuck_ you."

"Get over here," James fires back, and just like that, Michael's in his car.

* * *

James makes him strip, first, down to his boxer-briefs. He walks back and forth, back and forth, looking Michael over while Michael stares straight ahead.

"Letting it go a little, eh? Done with filming for a bit, so you feel like you can slack off? Is that it?"

"No, _sir_ \--"

James pushes right up into Michael's face. It takes standing on his tiptoes, but it doesn't look ridiculous or like David taking on Goliath at all. All Michael can do is stare into James's obscenely blue eyes and try to breathe.

"Are you looking at me?"

Michael looks away, eyes settling just to the side of James's face. "No, sir--"

"Did you say something to me?"

"No, sir--"

"'No, sir'? Do you think I'm an idiot? Are you talking to me _right now_?"

Michael closes his mouth and presses his lips together. James turns on his heel and paces away a few steps. "I didn't think so, boy." He looks over his shoulder and snaps his fingers, pointing at the floor. "Down."

Michael drops to his knees; it's not enough for James. James stalks back over and grabs him by the hair, and forces him down flat, face on the floor. He kicks at Michael's arms and legs until Michael has his arms down by his sides, legs together. James's boot comes down lightly on Michael's ass.

"Are you here to talk back to me?" James asks softly. Michael closes his eyes, pushes his forehead against the carpet. "Did you come here thinking you could talk back to me and get what you wanted?" His boot comes up for a moment. "Answer."

"No, sir," Michael whispers.

"Good thing. Very good thing, because that is _not_ what we do, and you know it." James crouches down at Michael's side. "You're out of shape and out of practice, both, so here's what we're doing. You give me ten push-ups, and if you've done them properly, you can stop."

Michael nods into the carpet. James stands up again. "Go."

Michael gets his arms out from under him and presses up on his toes. He snaps them out fast, one-two-three-four-five, not even breathing hard.

At seven, James slams his boot down on Michael's ass and drops him back down to the floor. "Clean line," he says. "Your arse isn't meant to be shoving itself up in the air like that. Are you trying to seduce me?"

"No, sir--"

"You think I'm going to let you off easy so I can fuck that pretty arse of yours?"

"No, sir--"

"So what the fuck are you doing, then?"

Michael doesn't answer. James takes his boot off Michael's ass. "Again."

Starting over. Michael goes fast again, gets through eight before James slams him into the carpet this time. "You're not going down far enough. Are you too good to touch the carpet now? Too good to have your chest on the floor?"

"No, sir!"

"You got sore nipples, boy? You been playing with them while you jerk off? Don't want them scratching against carpet, is that it?"

Michael groans out loud; the last time his nipples got worked over, seriously worked over, was a night like this one, when he called James and said _Fuck you_ and James came back with _No, when you get here I'll be making you beg a great deal more than that, first, and even then, only if you're good._ He wasn't good enough to fuck James that night, but there's always hope.

Probably not tonight, though. James makes a disgusted noise and moves his foot off Michael's ass. "Do it fucking _right_ this time, or you'll be sorry."

Michael nods and starts going, one more time. He goes slow, presses himself all the way up, lets his chest touch the floor on every trip down. When James walks around in front of him, Michael doesn't let that shake him; he just keeps going, even when James's boots are close enough to kiss.

"Ten," James says softly. "Back on the floor."

Michael lowers himself down, stretching his arms down by his sides again.

He can't see it, but he can hear it. James kneels in front of him, and there's the slight clink of his belt opening, the harsh rasp of his zipper. James doesn't make any sort of relieved noise when he brings his cock out, but Michael can hear the shift and rustle of material, and then the slap of flesh against flesh as James starts jerking himself off.

"What are you doing here?" James asks. Michael grimaces and shoves his face further into the carpet; somehow, James notices. He doesn't stop jerking himself off, but he uses his other hand to grab Michael by the hair and wrench his head back. Michael can see now, can see the set look on James's face, the slight line between his eyebrows. "Answer."

Michael stares at James's cock for another second--he can't take his eyes off it, can't think of anything but how badly he wants to suck it, wants it in him, wants to touch it and get fucked by it--and James shakes him by the hair. " _Answer._ "

"This," Michael says, and James lets him go, lets Michael push up on his elbows, and he closes his eyes as James grunts. The heat of James's come hits him in the cheek first, then the lips, and Michael opens his mouth wide to take in the last jets of James's come.

When it's over, James pants softly for a while, and then Michael can hear him getting his zipper back up, his belt buckled again. James comes to his feet.

"You want some water?" James asks softly.

"Maybe later," Michael murmurs, staying put for the moment.

"Okay." James reaches down and squeezes Michael's shoulder. "Clean up when you're ready. Leave the shorts. I'll have some water in the bedroom."

It takes Michael a while to get himself up to his knees, and then onto his feet, by which time James is long gone. Still, Michael knows where he is, and he drops his boxer-briefs on the floor before he heads for the bathroom.

He washes his face and neck, makes sure to get the spots on his shoulders and the top of his chest. He ignores the throbbing between his legs. He's nearly got himself under control when he gets to the bedroom.

James is naked, too, stretched out and spread out across the bed. There's a glass of water on the nightstand, as promised. There's a condom beside it. Michael would bet anything that James has already slicked himself up.

James doesn't look at him, even though he must have heard Michael come in. "I'm waiting," he murmurs.

Michael licks his lips. "Yes, _sir_ ," he says, sharply, and he walks over to the bed.

 _-end-_


End file.
